


He Thinks The Archivist Doth Protest Too Much

by evening_coffee



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Gentle Kissing, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Paranoia, Romance, takes place sometime after 166
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_coffee/pseuds/evening_coffee
Summary: "Okay," Martin said, bringing his voice down in volume. "I believe you. But--but let's say I didn't. Or, better yet, let's say that Annabelle did do something to me. Let's say I'm leading you to your doom right now, without realizing it. What then?"The question struck Jon like an arrow. After several hours of pondering whether or not Martin could be dangerous, he had not for one second considered what he would actually do if that turned out to be the case. "I--I don't..."It was like climbing a rock wall with no grips within reach; every single possibility ended in a painful fall.(After Martin's conversation with Annabelle, both Martin and Jon find themselves in the throes of paranoia)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 29





	He Thinks The Archivist Doth Protest Too Much

Jon shot a quick glance behind him to make sure Martin was still there, and then immediately looked forward after seeing the grim expression on Martin's face.

Martin noticed the hastiness of the gesture, for he had been watching Jon like a hawk for the past several hours. Something wasn't right. Something was just...off.

Jon would stop every so often, pausing slightly just so Martin could catch up to him. This normally wouldn't be considered suspicious; after all, Martin had gotten stuck in a Lonely domain not too long ago, so it would make sense for Jon to keep an eye on him.

But those pauses and glances didn't feel warm. They didn't hold soft concern, or even just the need to feel close and aware of one another in a gentle, loving way.

They were harsh. Judgemental. Jon's eyes were darting and his arms stiffened as the two of them continued their journey, and that last little paranoid glance became a breaking point.

Martin stopped abruptly and without warning.

Jon continued on for a few paces before the absence of footsteps caught his ear. He pivoted slowly and cautiously until he was face to face with his boyfriend. 

"Is..is something wrong, Martin?"

"You're not telling me something." Martin's tone was sharp, and the accusation was spoken with such strong conviction that any attempt to deny it would seem untrue by default.

"I--uh, what?" 

"You're hiding something from me. I can tell." Martin increased the bite in his words as he leaned forward. "You know, not everyone needs magic powers to see what people are thinking."

Jon stepped back a bit, and felt his pulse quicken under Martin's gaze. Regardless, he kept his voice calm in an attempt to diffuse any hostility that hung in the air. "Martin, if I saw any danger coming towards us, you know I would tell you." 

"But would you tell me if _I_ was the danger?"

Jon's heart stopped in his chest and dropped to his stomach. Fear clutched him so tightly that he almost broke his promise...

But he couldn't, just in case.

"What do you mean by that?" Jon didn't intend to feign ignorance; he knew what Martin was referring to even without 'knowing,' but he asked the compulsion free question as a formality, and as a chance to let Martin explain on his own terms.

"Christ, you _know_ what I'm talking about! You still think Annabelle did something to me! You're treating me like I'm radioactive! You never tell me what's happening until _the very moment_ it's happening, like you don't want me to know too much! And you keep looking at me as if I'm about to grow extra eyes and bite your bloody head off!" Martin's chest felt overwhelmingly full as he spilled out his tirade, and once he had finished he inhaled and exhaled with painful effort. 

Jon tried to take advantage of the break, but before he could even utter a syllable, Martin's head snapped up and he continued to speak with venom in his voice. "You ' _know,'_ don't you!? You looked! And you didn't want to tell me because you would be admitting you broke your promise!" Martin's breathing remained laboured, but he could see Jon's eyes narrowing, and Martin wasn't ready to let him speak just yet. " _Look,_ Jon; if there really is something messed up in my head and you ' _know'_ about it, you have to tell me! I can get mad at you for lying later, but just standing here and thinking--I just--I'm scared, alright! I'm terrified because I _seem_ normal to me, so I don't know what's wrong, but _clearly_ you do, so do us both a favour and admit that you've been spying on my thoughts!"

"Martin, that is _not_ what's happening!" Jon made a quick shift from victim to accuser the second his integrity was insulted. "I want you to trust me, Martin! I didn't look, I _swear._ I promise I didn't, and that's what's driving me crazy!" Jon could feel himself slipping into words he would regret, but he couldn't make himself stop now that he'd started. "You might have a god damn spider living in your brain, and you just _happened_ to decide that I'm not allowed to look for it right after talking to the person who might have put it there! So _excuse me_ if I'm a little worried! But you have to believe me when I say I didn't break my promise; I'm just being cautious." 

Martin took a minute to examine Jon's words and body language, trying to decode which parts were true. Jon looked absolutely haggard, and his expression was one of genuine fury. But, as the seconds passed, his jaw unclenched and his shoulders sank. He looked at Martin with pleading eyes, although Martin couldn't tell if he was seeking a response or forgiveness. 

"Okay," Martin said, bringing his voice down in volume. "I believe you. But--but let's say I didn't. Or, better yet, let's say that Annabelle did do something to me. Let's say I'm leading you to your doom right now, without realizing it. What then?"

The question struck Jon like an arrow. After several hours of pondering whether or not Martin could be dangerous, he had not for one second considered what he would actually do if that turned out to be the case. "I--I don't..." 

It was like climbing a rock wall with no grips within reach; every single possibility ended in a painful fall.

"Hmm? You don't what?" The question was terse, impatient, and rang with condescension.

"I don't know." It was the worst answer he could have given, but it was the only one he could reach. He struggled to save himself from his verbal plummet by grasping at the only foothold he could see. "I wouldn't leave you."

Martin's expression softened. He nodded, and internally cursed the tears forming in his eyes. He refused to let them spill, for he didn't want to appear weak in a moment like this.

Plus, they were a signal of something else; another thought that had been gnawing at him relentlessly for quite a while, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it at the moment.

He changed his mind, however, when Jon smiled and turned around to continue walking. As if anything had been resolved, as if there wasn't still a thick fog of paranoia engulfing both of them, and as if that insidious thought in Martin's mind could be ignored.

"What if Elias did something?" Martin asked the question quickly, both to catch Jon's attention and to stop himself from changing his mind.

Jon turned his head and contorted his face into a look of confusion. "What does Elias have to do with anything?"

Regret came swiftly, and Martin desperately wished he had just kept his mouth shut, but Pandora's box had been opened, and chaos was about to break out. "Elias--or Jonah, whatever. He can put thoughts into people's brains, right? Like, that's what he did to Melanie and--" Martin caught himself. The conversation about his mother didn't need to come up now. "I'm just saying...what if he can... _influence_ thoughts? Maybe not the same as compulsion. Like, he can't make you _do_ things but he can make you _think_ things?" 

Jon's look of confusion did not fade, and he remained completely perplexed by Martin's odd tangent. 

Martin grunted in frustration. Jon's lack of understanding was just making this more difficult. "Look, Jonah had this whole convoluted plan about getting you to just _do_ things, or meet the avatars or get 'marked,' whatever that means. He contrived every little thing to get you to this point, even stuff that didn't seem related at the time, and I'm starting to think that maybe he--"

"Made you fall in love with me." The realization strikes Jon with a blunt _thud_ instead of the sharp sting that Martin had been anticipating. He sighed deeply, then closed his eyes for a moment before responding. "Martin, please don't go down that road. Jonah couldn't have done that, and I don't think he'd have a reason to anyways."

"But what if he _did._ You can't see what he's thinking right now, right? And if you're telling the truth about not 'knowing' about me, then how would you know? It could have had something to do with The Lonely, and making sure you came back or something! And even if Jonah couldn't do it himself, he could have gotten someone else to mess with me. You might be able to see almost everything, but I'm stuck in the dark, alright? I'm surrounded by things and creatures who can alter my mind and change the way I feel and I don't always know why! Hell, maybe Peter was right. Maybe I'm not even in love with you, and I'm just chasing some version of you I made up in my head!"

" _Martin, don't say that!"_

"No! Don't 'Mah tan' me! Not now! Has this really never crossed your mind before? Have you never considered that possibility?"

Jon opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He was overcome with a sense of vertigo, for he wanted to say "no," which was almost true, but instead he decided to answer honestly.

"I hadn't. But, now that you've mentioned it, I guess it's a possibility," he spoke softly and with remorse, easing Martin's anger and replacing it with pain.

The silence that hung between them was punishing. The air had been so recently layered with shouting and aggression that its current stillness invoked nothing but suspense.

They stood like that for a while, each knowing that if the next thread of the conversation went too horribly, everything would start to come apart.

Martin was the first to break the silence, but his voice was just barely above a whisper. "Well, do you want to know?"

Jon was dizzy. The question was simple, and yet there was no right answer. He let the silence speak for him.

Martin turned his gaze to the ground to avoid looking at Jon's face. "Well, you can. We're not going to get past this one. And that's my fault; I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Martin's voice was starting to break, but he still managed to keep his tears from spilling. "I'm giving you permission. You can 'know.'"

Jon desperately wanted to say something, but every sentence felt like it could be dangerous if he didn't choose the right thing, and he just _couldn't._ There was nothing to say, no course of action that didn't end with something falling apart.

Martin had to bite his lip to keep the tears in check as Jon's silence stretched on. "Right. Ok then." And with those parting words, Martin turned around and began walking back in the direction from whence they came.

He didn't want to leave. Not really. But he couldn't keep standing there forever, and he couldn't walk alongside Jon now that they both had this unanswered question haunting them.

He had only been walking for less than a minute when he heard Jon's footsteps behind him. He didn't turn around.

Jon caught up to him, stepped in front of him, and looked into his eyes. Martin remained silent, and simply waited for their argument to continue.

Instead, he was met with a kiss.

It wasn't aggressive or ferociously passionate; it didn't communicate power or fire or the raw strength of physical love. 

It was soft, slow, gentle, and delicate. Jon's lips touched Martin's as though they were made of glass, and his fingers stroked Martin's cheek like a watercolour paintbrush. 

A dime in a wishing well; that small movement rippling the water from Martin's eyes down to his face. Martin had to break away slightly; his tightening throat and trembling lips threatened to give way to small sobs if he didn't steady himself.

With their faces still inches apart from each other, Jon tenderly whispered the words, "do you love me?"

Martin could feel the static in the air and the compulsion on his tongue. "Yes," he breathed. 

A fog of tension dissipated where the two men stood; the wordless questions of _why?_ and _what if?_ were answered by the feelings of hands on hands, lips on lips, and breaths that mingled in the space between kisses. _It doesn't matter,_ they said, _because I love you. I love you here and now; deeply and truly._

_I'm vulnerable, but I know you will not break me._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are appreciated :)


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